


The Tale of the Fox

by Sharonneke95



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Character Study, Except from her own stomach, Foxface is no one's pawn, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Nightlock - Freeform, Starvation, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26129548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharonneke95/pseuds/Sharonneke95
Summary: We all know how the story of Foxface ends, but how did she get there? She snatched up her backpack at the feast, but apparently that was not enough to keep her alive. This story tells the tale of the girl who made it to the final four without killing a single tribute but was bested by some berries.For Foxface it really were the Hunger Games.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	The Tale of the Fox

**Author's Note:**

> Foxface has always intrigued me and I'm really sad we don't know more about her. She comes across as smart, resourceful, and strong-minded and I love the scene they added in the film, where she's selecting all the edible fruits and plants and all on the screen. I guess that's what partially inspired this fic.
> 
> This is my pov of Foxface's last days in the games. We already know how her story ends, but how did she get there? It's kind of harsh, but befitting of the Games.
> 
> I hope you find this interesting and would love to hear your thoughts, both about the story as well as my writing style.

Just as the first ray of sun glints off the gold Cornucopia, there's a disturbance on the plain. The ground before the mouth of the horn splits in two and a round table with a snowy white cloth rises into the arena. On the table sit four backpacks, two large black ones with the numbers 2 and 11, a medium-size green one with the number 5, and a tiny orange one that must be marked with a 12.

The table has just clicked into place when I dart out of the Cornucopia, snag the green backpack and speed off. I know it is risky, and there was a chance that the others could have come up with the same idea, but facing them off in the direct fight that was sure to come had I waited, is something I’d lose anyway so this felt like my best bet. I’m sure no one will come after me and leave their own packs to be snatched up, except maybe for two and twelve, who are still with two tributes. But last I heard was that the boy from twelve was hurt and dying, although that was when I eavesdropped on the careers, days ago and he is still alive. And the two from two never seem to go more than a few feet apart since that stupid announcement that two tributes from the same district can win. If they had said so before… No, it doesn’t matter. My districtpartner was stupid enough to stay behind for the Bloodbath and to get killed early on. He wouldn’t have been of any help. 

No one is following me as I dart into the woods. The pack is heavy, but that’s good. I am so, so, so hungry! I feel like I could even eat the fabric that’s holding it all together. There’s a scream and while it sounds far away enough, I run even harder. It doesn’t take long before I reach my hideout. The entrance is something between a hollow tree and a cave, but it’s not really either of the two. It’s like one of those places where the Gamemakers weren’t sure what they wanted, so they didn’t choose. Gamemaker’s freedom and all.

It is hidden by some branches and rocks. If there’s one thing I learnt to do at home, it’s making sure no one notices me. Being noticed is never a good thing, whether it’s classmates, peacekeepers, or cameras. The cameras in the arena are much harder to hide away from, but they don’t form the threat in here. My gnawing stomach does, so as soon as the entrance is shut again, I wiggle myself through what I’ve come to call the hallway, into the bigger space, where I drop my bag onto the ground and dig in. I know what’s in it, in some sense. “Each of you needs something desperately,” Claudius Templesmith had said. And there is only one thing I need. Desperately.

Food.

The content of the bag is just mesmerising and it’s so much I have no idea where to start! There are sandwiches, cheese, sausage, a container with soup, all kinds of fruit, stew, and even some dried food that could last me a week! This is amazing and well worth being called a feast. In the Games, that is. 

I know I should start small, but it smells amazing and my stomach hurts, so I take a few, way too hurried bites before putting everything back down. I need to be careful. It might be a lot of food, but it will be of no use if I throw everything up because I couldn’t control myself. I don’t even last ten minutes before my stomach turns in on itself and I throw up in one of the corners of the big space. Damn it! That wasn’t even that much! How am I supposed to eat anything if I can’t even keep a couple of bites down? 

I grab an apple and carefully munch on that, making sure I savour every bite. The apple seems to sit well on my stomach and I feel oddly full from such a small thing. Guess I better wait some more before trying any of the rest. Especially the soup is mocking me from where it stands and I barely last an hour before I grab it. There’s no spoon, but that’s no problem; I used to drink the soup at home as well. 

The container opens to show a half-stuffed brew, filled to the brink. The smell coming from it makes me think of some of the feasts we used to have, on very special days and my mouth waters. I take a sip. The soup is everything the smell promised and so much more! The vegetables still have a bite to them and the meat is so soft it almost melts on my tongue. The flavour balances between the spices and the ingredients, allowing me to taste everything perfectly. I moan as I chew and swallow. This is the first warm thing I have eaten since the start of the Games. And it’s beyond delicious. 

About half the soup is gone when I feel so full like I’m about to blow up, like the careers’ supplies. I’m still not sure whether I like the twirling, giggling 12-girl. I knew there was more to her, especially after that score. Her move to blow up the pile was a huge one, damning the careerpack to scavenging, just like the rest of us. But she also took away my steady supply of food. If only I had known…

I decide to go to sleep early, and it’s not hard to catch some with my stomach so full of warmth. I wake up to the anthem and peek outside to see the girl from 2 in the air. She’s dead. Good. She seemed the cruellest of the bunch. Five left. The 2-boy, me, the boy from 11 and both from twelve. I vaguely wonder what they must have needed; their package was so small! No food then. Maybe some kind of medicine? Maybe that boy was indeed dying and they needed something to heal him. That would mean that the two of them are very strong together. Not only do they have the only alliance that could last the Games, but they also don’t need any food or weapons. Or at least the capitol doesn’t think they needed that anyway. 

Then I notice the container of soup again and I can’t help but slurp the rest into my stomach. It’s still warm and I try to make it last, but I’ve never been too good at that. How could I? If you take too long to eat, someone else will snatch it up. When the soup is gone, I once again look over my provisions, happy with what I see, but I decide against eating more. I’ve already had so much compared to the previous days. No need to risk eating too much. I’ll be better off trying to make it last. Even though I had done so for half a day already, it isn’t hard to fall asleep again.

I wake up to the sound of streaming water and freezing feet. There is a little, white light coming in, telling me that morning has arrived, but I don’t have time to pay too much attention to that. My hideout is filling itself with water, and it’s rising quickly! I’m at the high end, but the water is already up to my ankles. It’s ice-cold and I know I’ll have a hard time warming up from it if I get soaked. My food is drained already, but before I even get the chance to grab any of it, the water swipes it all away. I mourn the loss, happy that I at least ate the soup, and make a dash for it. 

The entrance is a little slippery, but the water is not coming from there. I made sure to check for that possible danger when I chose this place, knowing from out jackets that rain would be a very likely occurrence. There has to be another way for the water to get in, but with the speed at which it rises, I’m sure I would have noticed the size of a hole like that upon my first search around the hideout. Something must have changed in my den since I checked. I never considered that possibility.

Even if I won’t be returning, I’m careful when I get to the blocked gateway, trying to make sure no one is waiting for me. After peering outside long enough for the water from inside the cave to reach me, I deem it safe enough to go out. I can’t hear anything with the heavy rain, but I don’t see much either. I just have to trust that others will have trouble to see or hear me as well. Besides, who would be stupid enough to go outside with weather like this anyway? 

Me, I think, when I’ve barely crawled out and am soaked to the bone already. There goes the nice and warm feeling the soup gave me. I sigh, hurry towards the folded tree that is always my first hiding place when I get out and start to think of a plan. 

The tree provides quite a dry space, but my wet clothes and the wind make me feel ice cold. I need a more sheltered place. In mind, I tick off all hiding places I found up until now, figure out how far away they are, whether they’ll still be viable options now and whether the route there will be safe. I have come up with three different options, each having their own pluses and minuses, when the first lightning bolt strikes a tree close to mine. The sound of thunder following almost immediately, rendering me deaf for a moment.

Okay. Closest one it is. 

People often say lightning never strikes the same place twice, but that’s some stupid saying made up to let people feel better about themselves. Lightning is as likely to strike the same place twice as any other place that is high enough. Lightning is a force of power that we were never taught about much. Why learn about something that you cannot control or harness? Steer clear from it. Don’t hide in the open. Don’t hide under trees. Which doesn’t leave many options here.

I decided to make a run for the closest hiding place I can remember, hoping that the thunder will only add to my previous assumption that no one in their right mind will be out now. Which says a lot about me. Then again, I haven’t really had a choice, since I didn’t want to end up like my food. Who is to say I am the only one driven out of their hiding place with this weather?

With my thoughts going wild, I run, trying to listen and see, but the rain and thunder make that impossible. The lightning striking close every time isn’t much more reassuring. As if it is trying to fry me. Not that I still have much around my bones to be properly fried, I think darkly. 

It doesn’t take too long, but it still feels like an eternity, before I make it into the hideout. It’s a bunch of rocks piled onto one another. Not very comfortable, but it’s away from the ground and when you crawl under the top rock you’re both sheltered from the storm as well as invisible. 

I wriggle myself inside and lie back. There’s no falling asleep this time; the lightning still seems hell-bent to get me, but I’m safe. I lie there, thinking about the stew that smelled so amazing. My stomach growls and the hunger pains have returned full force. The soup replenished my water balance, but my throat is starting to feel dry again. The storm slows down enough for the lightning to stop, but the rain is falling as if there’s no end to the water supply. I squirm until I’m on my stomach, my arms reaching outside. I catch some of the rain in my cupped hands, drink whatever is left when my hands reach my mouth and repeat that until it doesn’t feel worth the effort anymore. I worm my way back to safety from spying eyes and fall into an uneasy sleep. 

The day after, the thunder is back at full force. It does sound a little further away now, as if it’s not targeting me anymore. It’s still too close to my liking, so I stay hidden for most of the day, spending my time between dozing and ignoring the pangs of hunger. I’m also starting to feel a little dizzy, even without moving and I know that’s not okay. Not even close to okay. 

Just like yesterday, the thunder fades as the night falls. My hunger drives me out of my shelter and as I get out, I notice that my ribs are really sticking out now. I have to be careful when manoeuvring over the rocks, that’s how frail I seem, even to me.

As expected, there’s nothing to be found. Everything is flooded, in hiding, or burned by lightning. Defeated, I lower myself onto the ground, not even bothering with a hiding place anymore. I do stop myself from moaning when my stomach clenches. The anthem gives a nice reprieve and I smile when I see the big guy from 11 has been taken down. It’s not long anymore, I tell myself. Maybe you can make it. Just a couple more days.

But as I sit there, knees drawn in and pushing against my stomach in the hopes that the pressure will stop it from hurting, I know that there’s no way I’m winning. That feast was my last chance and I screwed it up. Even if I find food now, I’ll be too starved to eat enough to be able to take on the last tribute, no matter who it is. And by now, even the boy from 12 will have healed and be beyond my capabilities. I’ve gambled and lost. My strategy did not pay off.

For a moment, I curse the 12-girl. If she hadn’t tampered with the careers’ stockpile, I could’ve eaten from it for days before they would have noticed. My anger deflates almost immediately. Of course, that girl is part of the reason why there are so few careers left. One to be precise. If you don’t count… What had they called him? Lover Boy? I’m pretty sure he never really counted himself among them, though. 

What does it even matter whether archer-girl blew up my chances, literally. Even with them, there was no way I would have outlasted her. She is great with that bow, smart when it comes to hiding and probably just as clever as me when it comes to the woods. But she’s tougher, stronger and most of all braver. All I have to go on, are my wits and stealth. And you can only get so much food with that. 

I must have fallen asleep - or lost consciousness, I have no idea by now - when it turns to light again. The rain has stopped somewhere, too, but I failed to notice. I’m cold, even though the sun shines down on me and my clothes are starting to dry. I try to stand up, but that’s difficult. My legs can barely hold me. Still, I manage, but once upright I’m lost. Where am I supposed to go to? There was hardly any food in this part of the forest a few days ago. Only a lot of berries that are not meant to be eaten and roots that first need cooking. And I don’t have the means to create a fire. 

Instead of finding food, I settle on finding water. It will make me feel a little more useful, even if that is not what my body so desperately needs. I’m angry, again, with everyone and everything that led me to this point. Most of it is on me. But being angry is draining and that’s not the kind of energy I have now. I have to remind myself from time to time to pay attention to my surroundings, because I keep forgetting. My concentration is dangerously low. But it’s the cold that is scaring me the most. 

After drinking from the clear and fast-flowing stream, throwing up the water because even that is too much for my stomach to take, and finding a tree to sit against, I once again think about what my next steps will have to be. At this rate, I’m not outlasting anyone. My legs feel heavy and it seems impossible to lift them up, so my stealth is far gone. I’m giving myself one day, tops, before I’m too far gone to move. Then what? The two from 12 may give me a quick death, but by now I have no clue where they or the boy from 2 are. And I really don’t want the Career to find me. He’d make it last, drag it out. Maybe my body would give up before I would be found, but that would hurt as well. 

With a sigh I look around. None of the options sound good, but then what am I supposed to do?

My eyes fall onto a bush of berries. I know they’re nightlock. I’ve seen them before. Swallow one and you’ll be dead before it reaches your stomach. That would be a quick way to go. They say it’s painless, too. But I purposefully ignored them before. It would be very suspicious if I would pick them now, wouldn’t it? Or would they blame it on side-effects of the starvation? Aren’t hallucinations and confusion among the symptoms?

I discard the idea. What am I thinking about? Seriously? After everything I’ve been through? I’m not giving up now. 

Slowly, I manage to get myself onto my legs again, but everything hurts. I eye the berries again… 

No!

As forcefully as I can manage I turn around. My mouth feels beyond dry, so I try sipping from the stream again. This time it goes a little better. I manage to keep a mouthful down. That has to be enough.

This time I’m walking slowly, but listening. The water seems to have cleared my mind a little. I’m feeling better, it seems. But then my vision blacks out and I fall to my knees. 

Not good.

Then I hear voices. I get really quiet, trying to listen in.

"So, why don't you go on? Show me some plants to gather and that way we'll both be useful." That sounds like the 12-boy. He sounds completely healthy again. Bugger.

The girl answers him. "Not if Cato comes and kills you."

Instead of being offended, he laughs it off. "Look, I can handle Cato. I fought him before, didn't I?"

The girl doesn’t seem to happy with it. They bicker a little longer before settling on him gathering edible things and her hunting for meat. The sound of food doesn’t make my mouth water anymore. Instead, I just get extremely nauseous. Once again, not good.

They also decide upon a whistle, to let the other know they’re okay. I can’t help but smile. They seem quite nice. If we had met under different circumstances, we might have have been able to get along.

The girl goes deeper into the forest while the boy concentrates on his task of digging up the roots. They’re obviously planning on building a fire, so I have to get away before the smoke gets high enough to draw the attention from the boy from 2.

Another pang hits my stomach and I double over silently. My legs are starting to shake and there are dark patches in my vision. Anger spikes once more. How dare the people from the Capitol do this to us? Put children in an arena and demand that they fight to the death. How is it okay that the Capitol gets to decide all that? They decide how much food the districts get, they decide what district you belong to, they decide your profession. They decide all the rules. They decide your life, and now they get to decide my death?

Fuelled by the anger, I edge closer to the boy. He has everything laid out, as if he’s inviting me. There’s one apple, two rolls of something, a blob of cheese, a pile of the uncooked roots and a little heap of berries.

Nightlock.

Silently I thank the 12-boy. Peeta. I know their names. I know all their names. It’s just better to not think of them like that. Easier. Not that it matters. Not anymore.

I have made my decision. Whether it’s because the pain in my stomach and muscles combined with the lightheadedness has finally driven me crazy, or because it is a final act of defiance, of choosing my own end. 

I grab a handful of berries and the piece of cheese to not make it too noticeable, make sure I’m far away enough not to be spotted immediately, and put the nightlock in my mouth.


End file.
